Smiles
by Ryuchu
Summary: Your smiles are useless and you know it. But still, you'll keep forcing your lips into that upturned position. It may not be able to cure Jude, but you'll have to keep trying because smiles are all that you have.


**A/N: **Hey look, it's another 2nd person character study drabble that got out of hand.

Yes, I realize I should be working on my Alvin x Leia one-shot collection, but I was once more writing character study drabbles in an attempt to get back into the swing of things and I ended up liking this one enough to expand upon it and produce...whatever this is. I feel that Leia has a lot of hidden depths that could have been explored but were instead glossed over. But then again, I feel that happened to pretty much every character in this game...

These things are surprisingly fun to write. Perhaps I'll do some more for other characters?

* * *

You're not allowed to cry.

All the sadness, all the pain, all the fear – every grief-ridden emotion must be pushed away. You must find the strength to smile. When you're standing outside the door, that's when you're allowed to be human; that's when you're allowed to grieve.

However, the moment you step inside you force yourself to be strong beyond human limits. You _have_ to. As you set down the tray of food next to Jude's bed, you force yourself to smile all the brighter, instilling yourself with a confidence and sunny disposition that has no actual backing to it.

Jude can't find the strength to smile, so you'll have to do it for him.

For days now you've been attempting to encourage him to eat, but to no avail. Today, just like all the others, you attempt to coax some – _any_ - reaction out of him.

Unexpectedly, the moment you turn your back you hear the telltale sounds of him forcefully knocking the tray away, sending dishes and food clattering in every direction. It reminds you of a petulant child you once had to care for at the clinic. Just like back then, you scold the perpetrator for his actions, but even you can tell by the tone of your voice that the scolding isn't the honest part. No, what's unexpectedly honest is the gentle smile on your face and your promise to get him more food.

A response. You finally got him to respond to your presence.

As you clean, you chat amicably to fill the silence, but he doesn't offer anything further. The longer you spend in the room and the longer his silence drags on, the more and more artificial your smile becomes.

By the time you collect the strewn dishes, tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes.

By the time you turn towards the door, tears are streaming openly down you face.

By the time you shut the door behind you, the tray crashes to the ground as you viciously wipe at your eyes, trying uselessly to stem the flow of tears.

You know you're not Milla; you know you're not strong and courageous and awe-inspiring. Instead, you're simply Leia. As a nurse, you've learned how to treat all kinds of external wounds, but all you can do to heal internal wounds is smile. You used to believe – honestly and truly believe – that smiling would be enough.

Now you know better.

Smiles can't fix everything.

Your smile can't cure Jude.

Only Milla can do that.

You know that.

You know that, you know that, you know that!

But smiles are all that you have.

Why does this realization only make you sob harder?

How long you stand there, back pressed against the door sobbing to yourself, you can't really say. But as the tears stop and you begin to collect the twice scattered dishes, you force yourself to practice smiling. You had been so close to breaking down in Jude's presence; you promised yourself that you would never let that happen. What Jude needs now is someone to be strong for him – seeing you cry would only impede the recovery process.

When you enter into the kitchen and begin to ladle out a new bowl of stew, your smile is painfully forced, but it's there and that's the important part. You can still do this; you can still smile. If it's for Jude's sake, you can make the smile as wide as need-be.

However, your shaking hands are far more honest than your conscious thoughts – your body is willing to admit what your heart is not. No matter how you try to stop it as you carry the tray back to where Jude is, somewhere in your heart you know it's futile. Just like always, you have to steel yourself and force a smile onto your face before you open the door. The words you were about to say die on your lips as the tray of food clatters forgotten to the floor for the third time that day.

Alvin's here, after you've tried and failed time and time again to establish some sort of communication with him. It should be a happy reunion; he's a friend after all. However, the gun he has pushed against Jude's forehead easily confirm his dark intentions.

He had promised to never betray you again.

He was always a big fat liar.

Before you really have time to think it through you're lunging forward, grabbing at Alvin's arm, sending shots scattering around the room and making your ears ring. He knocks you away, causing your body to crash to the ground and making your still ringing ears sting.

Jude, you have to save Jude!

You're on your feet in a flash and slamming into Alvin again, sending his gun and bullets to the floor. This is your opportunity. As you grab Jude's hand and drag him from the hut, your heart pounding in your ears is all you can hear. You're not sure which terrifies you more, the possibility that you might die or that Jude might.

When you emerge into the perpetually setting sunlight of Hamil, you hear a thud behind you. Most likely due to the fact that he hasn't eaten in days, Jude has collapsed to the ground. You rush back to him and you're yelling the first thing that comes to mind, _anything_ to get him to move.

Milla.

She's the one that can save him.

Just remind him of Milla and the sacrifice that she made.

Push your selfish thoughts away.

Milla, it has to be Milla.

Not you.

You grab his hand again and you're attempting to run even as he slows you down. Your mind isn't truly processing where you're going, as long as it's away from Alvin and that dead look in his eyes. Somehow the two of you have ended up on the catwalks hanging amongst the trees and again you're pushing Jude to move.

Then there's another shot that makes your ears ring in pain.

You know who's going to be there when you turn to look but what you don't know is how much seeing his face will frighten you. A part of you wants to cry. Instead you place yourself between Jude and Alvin and force all the sadness into a flurry of anger. This is all you can do. If you can't make Jude better through smiles, at least you can use yourself as a shield to protect him.

You pull your weapon and watch as Alvin does the same. The next thing you know, the two of you are rushing headlong into combat, sparks flying as your weapons meet. Words are pouring out of your mouth, but you're not consciously forming them. All you can think as your weapons clash over and over again is that you have to protect Jude.

Wasn't Jude the whole reason you started on this journey in the first place?

I want Jude to smile.

I would hate if Jude couldn't become a doctor.

Those reasons and so many more you wrote.

Selfish, petty reasons to want to accompany your childhood friend and the Lord of Spirits on a quest to destroy a weapon that you can't even begin to understand the implications of.

But they're your reasons; yours and yours alone.

All of it, everything is for Jude.

So even though you're terrified, even though you want to cry, even though you know that you're not the one who can bring back Jude's smile…even so, you will pick up your weapon and protect him. You'll protect him as many times as it takes.

Because you love him.

You're still yelling as your weapon continues to clash with Alvin's. Once more, the words are lost on you as your terror thuds in your ears.

But you know in your heart that you're yelling about Milla.

Because she's the only one that can save both of them.

Not you and your useless smiles.

Somewhere between attempting to protect Jude and attempting to snap Alvin out of it with reminders of a now-dead woman, your weapon is knocked from your hands and you slam up against the wooden railing of the catwalk before falling heavily to the ground. You feel winded and for a moment all you can do is look dazedly ahead as you try to collect your bearings. Before you even have time to fully recover, you're in motion again, grabbing at Alvin's arm in a bid to prevent him from shooting Jude. Alvin easily knocks you to the ground and a bullet slams into the wood right next to your head.

For a second it's as if everything stops. You can't help but stare at the still smoking hole the bullet created, your eyes wide in terror and your breathing shallow. If his shot had been a margin to the left you would have found yourself with a bullet in your skull.

It isn't until that moment that it really sinks in.

Alvin is going to kill you.

Just as the implications of this realization hit you, the world falls from underneath you and suddenly you're hurtling through the air. It's an odd feeling of weightlessness that ends abruptly as you slam into the ground. You can hear the sickening crunch of something breaking, but you don't give yourself time to evaluate the damage.

So many times, against your better judgment, you put your faith in Alvin, but this time you know that you simply can't do that. He has every intention of pulling that trigger and unless you get moving, your life as well as Jude's is forfeit. As you tug and pull at Jude, ignoring your own pain and trying to get him to move, your find her name on your lips yet again.

Suddenly, there's a spark in Jude's eyes and you can see your childhood friend finally returning to you.

In that moment, you hate Milla.

Because it's her that can save Jude.

Not you and your useless smiles.

Not you and your useless love.

But she's your friend. She believed in you when you doubted yourself and wanted nothing more than to give up in frustration. You looked up to her and it tore you apart when she died.

You don't hate her.

You can't.

"Thank you so much, Leia."

That thank you is not really intended for you.

He's thanking you with his words, but you know that in his heart, he's thanking her. He's remembering her sacrifice and how strong she was and how much she inspired him to change and grow.

Instead of letting this knowledge and how much it hurts you show, you try to smile. You know it's strained and forced and fake, but you have to make an attempt.

Smiles are all that you have.

Then there's the sound of a gunshot and a burning pain in your right shoulder. Every pain sensor in your body is on full alert and all of your thoughts have been snatched away sans one:

Oh…he actually pulled the trigger.

You knew it was coming – you told yourself that you were running because this very thing could happen. But still, you're not sure which stings more; the betrayal or the wound.

Suddenly you're falling forward, your forehead crashing into Jude's as you stare directly into his eyes. The sudden proximity makes your stomach turn flip-flops as you realize just how close his lips are to your own. You can feel his slow, ragged exhales on your face. You can't help but wonder if the two of you are going to kiss.

What will his lips taste like? It's something you've been wondering for a long time but never had the courage to pursue. As the journey carried on and you watched his affections for Milla become increasingly obvious, that particular dream seemed to be slipping deeper into the realm of impossibility.

The selfish part of you couldn't help but hope that maybe you would be the one able to help Jude recover. Maybe for once you could be the one to help him change into a better person.

But you knew that to be a pipe dream.

It's only Milla who can do that.

Everything starts to darken as the edges of your vision are slowly eaten away. You find yourself falling away from Jude's face, the question of if you're going to kiss is given a disappointing but obvious answer. You want to smile to let Jude know it's okay, you understand that you don't have his heart and you'll just have to grow stronger.

But as the darkness lays claim to your consciousness, you can't even find the energy to do that.

Someday you'll grow strong enough to get over the rejection, but now all you want to do is cry.

Your smiles really are useless, aren't they?


End file.
